


Another Shitty End-of-the-World Scenario

by SalemSigns



Category: South Park
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Apocalypse, Character Death, Complicated Relationships, Drug Abuse, F/M, Friendship/Love, M/M, Mental Instability, POV Alternating, Past Abuse, Post-Apocalypse, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, craziness, highschool, lots of wild shit happening, never-ending drama, past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalemSigns/pseuds/SalemSigns
Summary: (Mainly a Kyman fic)."Maybe it's not South Park," Stan spoke thoughtfully with a mouthful of chips, and Kyle looked up from his school work to raise a brow. "Maybe it's US. I mean, yeah, wild shit happens to others, too... But still, it all seems to circle back to us. Maybe WE'RE the problem, here."The room filled with silence for a bit, before Cartman finally spoke up. "Dude. That's some dumb, gay shit.""Yeah... you're right."One would think that after the kids of South Park started growing up, their problems would settle down in a way. That most of their childhood was the result of an overactive imagination and that their life would calm down, becoming filled with uninteresting encounters and boring schoolwork to get ready for an unfulfilling, mundane life. One would hope but such a thing can't be in the little mountain town of South Park, where everything begins and ends. Especially with four specific, life-long friends.Everything is just as complicated, wild and insane, except now there's teenage edge thrown into the mix.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	1. History

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, thank you for deciding to stop by and check out my new story! It's not going to be *as* crazy as the show itself is, but there's a lot that still isn't considered 'normal' or 'sane' for the everyday little mountain town in real life. There IS a plot to this, but for now just enjoy whatever hyper-spastic adventures they come up with. :)

_Dear Diaree,_

_I have started a journal despite my peers’ wishes, so that if any survivor comes across it, my story may still be told for generations to come. I’m just a thirty year old VERY handsome, and totally single man…. A lone wolf against an apocalypse, threatening our way of life, luckily I come prepared with weapons of mass-_

“The fuck are you writing, fat-ass?!” A hand shot out in the darkness, snatching the small stack of papers in Eric Cartman’s grip. “Stop writing so damn loud, they’ll hear you smashing the pencil into everything.”

“Ey! Give it back, ya sneaky Jew!” Cartman practically shouted as he leapt onto his feet, earning various hushes and mutters from the group of fellow teenagers surrounding him. “I knew you were working for the _enemy_ this whole time!”

“What- shut the fuck up, dude,” Kyle Broflovski hissed toward the other, and the only thing that Cartman could see of him in the darkness was a light, outlining glow from his pale skin but he could still practically _feel_ the vibrations of anger and frustration from his Daywalker frienemy, even if he couldn’t really see. Then there was a moment of silence, before Kyle exclaimed in a slightly louder voice, “Dude, you’re not fucking thirty!”

“Shh, Kahl!”

“You’re seven-fucking-teen! How the fuck can you even spell everything correct except 'diary'- and we don’t even have weapons, that’s why we’re hiding in a fucking HOTEL ROOM!”

Someone turned on the flashlight for a quick second to blind the arguing boys, so they could place a finger to their lips and actually be seen doing so. In the dull light Cartman couldn’t tell if it was Kenny McCormick or Stan Marsh, but either way, he proceeded to mock that person in the same mannerisms until a book was tossed against the back of his head from someone else. It bounced harmlessly, but Cartman feigned trauma anyway, howling and holding his head while dramatically falling forward, oh-so-conveniently landing on Kyle’s lap as he did so.

“Get the fuck off me,” Kyle grumbled as he slid out from underneath the other boy. “Who threw that?”

“Sorry Kyle,” A nasally voice spoke from the background, and Cartman recognized it as Craig. That asshole, always doing things like that.

“Look I know he’s annoying, but we really don’t need to call attention to ourselves until we come up with a plan,” Kyle sighed as he scooped up the unknown book and stuffed it somewhere that he figured was a decent enough hiding place.

“Here’s a plan; let’s feed him to the zombies. He has enough meat on his bones to last them while we run!” Another voice, one that sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Cartman (and probably only to Cartman) spoke up. Of course Clyde would want him to get eaten, they got along even less than he got along with Kyle.

Cartman honestly expected some type of statement based on how important friendship was, but all Kyle responded with was, “Too much struggling.”

“It’s okay, if we have to run again he probably won’t be able to keep up this time,” Stan’s voice spoke from directly beside their ginger friend, earning a few laughs and a scoff from Cartman.

“I _did_ keep up last time, Marsh,” Cartman pointed out in a somewhat salty tone, folding his arms over his chest. He wasn’t even that fat, not anymore anyway. Not that it was much of a choice, for him…

“Yeah yeah, you probably mistook someone’s head for a donut and wanted to try and reach it,” Stan snorted, earning another chorus of laughs, mostly from his ‘butt buddy’ Kyle. Then he muttered a tiny, “Ow,” when a flurry of purple and teeth came from the shadows.

“That’s enough Stan,” Wendy, Stan’s on-and-off girlfriend scolded, and Cartman rolled his eyes. Even in the middle of an apocalypse, she had to keep her appearances up and pretend she actually cared about ‘bullying’ and ‘mean words’, even if it was toward someone she absolutely could not stand.

“Yeah Staaan, listen to your girlyfriend,” Cartman ended up sneering, feeling a sharp smack on the back of his head in response. Before he could have another tantrum again however, a low, guttural sound entered their ears, causing them all to freeze in place and still their breaths. Cartman was suddenly heavily aware of everyone else’s bodies much too close to him, their trembling skin, and their taut muscles rubbing against his accidentally.

As quietly as possible, Kyle was suddenly shifting through the pile of high-schoolers and heading toward the door. The red-head wouldn’t possibly risk everyone else’s lives in that room, and Cartman was correct. He could see the silhouette of Kyle as he peered through the peek-hole carefully, then knelt back onto the floor at everyone else’s level.

“There’s only one,” Kyle whispered so quietly that only Cartman, Stan, and presumably Kenny could hear. The four of course had appointed themselves as the ‘leaders’ of this little mess. Or rather, Kyle felt sympathetic enough to help keep all of his classmates safe, Stan had all of the hiding places figured out to take some fellow glory, Kenny managed to scrap together half-assed plans that seemed to work sometimes, and Cartman was just following along for the ride, but who couldn’t resist his deniable dictatorship skills? Together, they created some kind of awkward leadership to keep pretty much the entire youth alive.

Plus, it WAS technically their fault this happened in the first place, and Kyle or Stan usually came up with a really lame spiel about owning up to responsibilities, which led to all of this. Truthfully, if Cartman didn’t get roped into things like ‘guilt’ and ‘consequences’, he probably wouldn’t be in that stinky hotel room anyway, but rather miles away on some runaway train.

“Should we… kill it? Then get outta here?” Stan whispered back, and Cartman could see Kyle’s shadow shake his head.

“Shit’s too dangerous. The best thing we can do is I guess wait for it to go away on its own, then one of us should high-tail it the rest of the way and-”

“Oh Hell no,” Stan hissed in annoyance. “Because we know who that ‘one’ is, and I’m not letting it happen!”

“I never said I was going to volunteer myself!” Kyle protested.

“So who were you gonna send?”

“... Myself.”

“Fat chance,” Stan replied. “We stick together, and that’s that.”

“I also volunteer the Jew,” Cartman offered, earning a light punch to the arm.

“Keep your voice down. And just because I said ‘fat’ doesn’t mean I asked for your opinion,” Stan spoke lowly, with venom dripping from his voice. “I’d have Kyle send you, but you’d just run away like a big baby.”

“I will not!” Cartman protested. Oh but he definitely would, not that he would ever admit it out loud.

“I don’t think anybody should go alone,” Kenny finally spoke up, and Cartman nearly jumped out of his skin to know that the blond was so close to him without warning. “Chill my dude,” Kenny added when he felt Cartman twitch with surprise. “Yeah, I’m here, too.”

“Well it’s taking forever trying to move EVERYONE from place to place,” Kyle pointed out, his voice lowering even further when the monster outside groaned lightly. “Not to mention, more dangerous.”

“Then we can just ‘drop them off’ here for a bit, while we go do what we gotta do, since this place seems the most secure,” Stan sighed, then added, “-and yes, _all four of us_ have to go.”

“I didn’t sign up for this!” Cartman protested, but nobody paid him any mind, causing him to pout lightly. He really didn’t want to risk his neck for the next generation of South Park to survive and thrive. For what? For them to continue the bloodline of dumbassery? Maybe the entire town should be swallowed up by zombies, it might be best for everyone. The four of them could run away to a new town, start all over…

“The fuck you didn’t,” Kyle grumbled, then stood again to check the door. “... I think it’s gone.” He knelt back down and turned to everyone else in that room. “Lock the door behind us, and don’t you DARE make a sound. We’ll be back… hopefully.”

“Good luck, fellas,” Butters murmured timidly from the darkness.

“Stan, wait-” Wendy called after her boyfriend, but the door had already been flung open and all four were dashing out of the room, Kyle being the last one out so he could quietly and carefully shut the door. Then he, too, was running through the hall, easily passing Cartman who was being dragged by Kenny’s tight, trembling grip.

“You have that weird fuckin’ thing?” Stan panted by Kyle’s ear as the two fell into sync next to each other at the very front. “Are you sure it’s gonna…?”

“It’s gonna work!” Kyle wheezed as he threw out his hands, forcing the hotel doors open with a soft squeak and heading down the street. “It’s gotta!”

Cartman could already feel his muscles aching as he struggled to keep up with the rest. Now that he was out in the open, freely running with a mini group of loud clodhoppers that would surely attract attention, he really didn’t want to go off on his own to escape and risk his own life. Plus, though he’d never admit it, he really didn’t want these three buffoons to go off anywhere without him. They’d been through thick and thin since they were practically toddlers; it would be stupid to abandon them now of all times.

At least, that’s what he had to regularly convince himself of because if he allowed himself to have any guts to run off, Kyle would surely find him and beat the ever-loving shit out of him once all of this was over. Cartman definitely learned his lesson with that.

Kyle was actually the first to need a break so he could catch his breath. He wasn’t unfit by any means, but he had developed a really problematic case of asthma when he was younger. In general, the guy had the most health problems out of everyone else, so it really wasn’t surprising.

Cartman ended up nearly collapsing against the road as he stopped to catch his own breath, holding onto his knees with Kenny beside him, looking a little tired but otherwise fine. Stan was the most active of the group, but kneeling on the floor for several hours tired even him out as he leaned against the nearest pole to pant. The streets of South Park were abandoned, so there was no need to worry about a car driving by and hitting them. In fact, they really only had one thing to worry about, and there didn’t seem to be any nearby in sight.

Stan had to walk over to begin patting Kyle on the back while he forced air through his lungs, so Cartman took the time to scope out the town.

Not much, if anything at all, had changed in this little town throughout the years. Even the abandoned cars on the side of the road and an occasional dead body was basically the norm for them all now. Not to say that it was boring. Maybe most of the townspeople themselves were, but for the four boys, there really weren’t that many dull days. Sometimes, _one_ of them would go purposely stirring up trouble just because it was much too quiet and peaceful… 

Kyle finally managed to straighten up and regain control of his lungs, when he froze in fear, staring off into the distance. Cartman turned to see what he was looking at, noticing an entire pack of limping, scraping, moaning zombies coming toward them. They were all bloody messes with odd growths all over their face and bodies. It was unknown if the blood was their own or someone else’s.

They also weren’t immediately alerted to the kids’ exact coordinates, but once they figured it out, they were actually pretty fast on unsuspecting humans. Kyle pressed a finger to his lip before quietly grabbing Stan’s hand in one, and Cartman’s in the other. This made the bigger boy’s heart leap into his throat, but knew it wasn’t the time to make gay jokes or protest or even point it out. He instead grasped the back of Kenny’s jacket, opting for a more ‘cool’ approach.

Kyle then began to slowly and as quietly as possible, lead the others away from the shuffling zombie-creatures. The Jew’s hands were sweaty and shaking, which irked Cartman a little, so he gripped just slightly tighter in order for their hands to not slip. Their footfalls still made a bit of noise which caught their attention, but not only was there a bit of echo through the empty streets, there was also enough distance between the boys and the zombies that they seemed to have a hard time still pinpointing their location.

Cartman’s eyes wandered and he spotted a metal pipe nearby. He pulled Kyle’s hand lightly then nodded his head toward the potential weapon, but Kyle shook his head vigorously. “We’re not killing anyone,” Kyle whispered, a puff of clouded air floating from his mouth, and gripped Cartman’s hand tighter. The brunet pouted but didn’t object; it was probably too dangerous of an attempt anyway. Some could still see from very up close, but mostly relied on hearing since growths usually covered their eyes. Listening to one of their own getting beaten to death… wasn’t a good thing.

One of the zombies tripped and fell forward, but instead of getting up it just began to crawl sneakily forward with one of its arms apparently broken and twisted all the way around, which tripped Kenny out. “Oh fuck no man,” Kenny muttered, and his words made the creature scuttle closer and excitedly. “Oh no, hell no, fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck-” There wasn’t much Kenny was afraid of, but creepy crawly things was definitely on his very short ‘nope’ list (Stan swore it was because of a bad acid trip a few years ago that Kenny never got over).

The more Kenny spoke, the quicker it crawled, which made him louder, which made the rest of the monsters start shambling faster toward them. Cartman finally let go of Kyle’s hand to clasp his own over Kenny’s mouth, which was apparently a bad idea because the poor guy immediately gasped and gave a high-pitched squeak of shock. That set them all off, and the boys had exactly five seconds to escape before they were swarmed.

“Run!” Kyle yowled, not dropping Stan’s hand as he whirled around and took off in the opposite way. Stan was yelping as he was being practically dragged, which caused more unnecessary attention, but luckily for Cartman and Kenny, that meant _they_ didn’t have to deal with as much of a threat.

Cartman and Kenny also took off, following the other two for a little bit before branching off down their own path to hopefully shake off at least a few of the assholes. Kenny practically pounced on one of the nearby fences like a less-than-agile cat, clambering over and to the other side. If Cartman wasn’t so out of breath, he would have cursed out the mousy-looking boy for abandoning him like that, since he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that. 

Instead, Cartman resorted to going around the fence, barely managing to squeeze through a narrow gap that he happened to find in one of the broken boards. He felt something scrape his leg, causing him to wince, but he pulled himself through then looked around, the only sound being his heavy breathing. Where was Kenny now?

Well, he didn’t have time to worry about that now, He could hear the digging of nails against wood, so Cartman quickly paced through the yard, the grass quieting his feet enough to at least gain a little distance. He also managed to find a loose stone and threw it toward the nearest metal pole (he missed, since he was so far away, but it still made a clattering noise against the sidewalk). This caused a decent enough distraction for him to stop and check out his surroundings.

Cartman had no idea where any of his friends were but he assumed Kyle and Stan had actually gone the _right_ way, and for all he knew Kenny was on his way to Canada. He rubbed his grubby face in irritation- he was so sweaty and dirty, and his muscles ached. He couldn’t wait for this to be over with so he could just take a damn shower.

A nearby screech pulled Cartman out of his thoughts. He really didn’t want to head to the sound, because that noise was probably loud enough for every zombie to wander over within a ten mile radius. However, it sounded like Kenny and he knew he wouldn’t live it down if the blond got hurt. 

Reaching the source of the noise, Cartman was correct in that it had come from his friend. Kenny had managed to fall in one of the large storm drains that seemed to have been opened, and was struggling to pull himself out in a frenzy, gripping the edges with pale hands. Kenny was usually either completely calm and reasonable, or balls to the walls insane and panicky. There was no in-between.

The shuffling of feet pushed Cartman into action, bending over his friend to grasp him by the armpits and pull him upward. Kenny was still squirming to try and get himself unstuck, which really didn’t help the situation at all, as the jacket he was wearing was too wet and slippery.

Then, Kenny’s jacket slipped from the other’s fingers and Kenny’s body went tumbling all the way to the bottom of the hole. It was too dark to see in there so Cartman only peered into it for a second, then he got up, brushing the dirt off of his pants. He headed in the direction he was sure was the correct way, and sure enough, he could see Kyle and Stan from a distance, on top of some random person’s house. There was a broken ladder on the ground next to one side and they were looking down at it with dismay. The zombies had fucked off to somewhere else, most likely toward the source of the scream and either they had gone in a different direction that wouldn’t cross paths with Cartman, or he was just terribly unobservant.

Cartman sauntered over with a light smirk on his face as he looked up at the two idiots on the roof of the house. “What are you doing up there, Jew?” Cartman taunted, and despite the darkness of the night, he could tell Kyle was scowling down at him.

“Shut up and help us, fat-ass,” Stan called down, prompting Cartman to look over at him in annoyance.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Marsh!” Cartman retorted, then blinked sweetly up at Kyle, hoping the dim street lights from far away gave enough of a glow to shine down on his face. “Kaaaahl, tell me what you need?”

Cartman could practically hear Kyle’s teeth grinding together. “Give us the stupid ladder so we can get down. We’re almost there!” Sure enough, Cartman looked around and saw, in the distance, the South Park hospital. That was where they needed to go, right?

Despite this, Cartman wanted to have a little more fun with the situation. “But Kyle, the ladder is broken. There’s no way you can use it to get down!”

“Then try and fix-”

“Unless…” Cartman interrupted dramatically, raising his arms to the sky. “Well, there is one possibility…”

“I’m not in the mood for this shit, Cartman!”

“See, all you have to do is just jump and land on me; it’s not that far of a jump!” Cartman smirked. Either he could torture this boy by keeping him up there as long as he wanted (and he loved having that kind of power over others) or Kyle would have no choice but to actually jump, and-

“Guys, they’re coming!” Stan gasped and pointed to something behind Cartman, but the bigger boy was too fixated with staring up at Kyle’s silhouette.

“Hurry up and make a choice Kyle, you don’t have much time-”

Before Cartman could fully finish his sentence, Stan had dropped down into Cartman’s waiting arms, knocking the both of them to the ground. It was more-or-less a shack of a house, so realistically, jumping down and getting hurt was never the problem; it was trying not to make noise while doing it. Unfortunately, Cartman ruined that when every word he spoke echoed through the air like a gunshot.

Kyle jumped down as well, landing beside and falling onto Stan’s body, who was still on top of Cartman in somewhat of a daze. Before Cartman could complain, the other two were already up and dragging the brunet with them while they took off down the street. 

“Where’s Kenny?” Kyle demanded while pulling Cartman’s arm.

“Dunno, fell in a hole,” Cartman replied, tugging himself out of the other’s grip. 

Kyle’s feet faltered. “What?!”

“Listen I tried getting him out but he was just too damn slippery!”

“Kyle let’s go! Wherever he is, he’s probably better off there than here!” Stan had stopped too, and was worriedly looking at his ginger friend, who had a glint of determination in his eye. “Don’t- please don’t! We’re almost there, dude!”

Kyle pursed his lips as he struggled internally with his own morality, when Stan gasped as something grasped the back of his jacket from within the darkness and pulled him into the nearest alleyway.

“Stan!” Kyle shouted, and Stan started yelling back before he was abruptly cut off. Now there were only two out of four friends left, and they were quickly being surrounded, by groaning, dripping monsters with sharp teeth and really gross fungi all over their face. The only thing to do was go down the very same alley and see where it led them. Hopefully it wouldn’t be to their deaths.

Kyle took the lead, dashing toward the dark, tight fit. His breath came out shaky and high-pitched, which could’ve been his asthma, or the fact that he was just a tiny bit terrified. Cartman slipped after him, having to go through sideways since he was just a little larger. The brick walls on either side stuck to his clothes and scraped against his hands, as he placed them in front of him to help guide him through the dark. Snow began to fall on their heads, making him shiver lightly. He just wanted this to all be over.

Suddenly, Kyle stopped, causing Cartman to bump into him. “What the fuck, Jew?” Cartman hissed, looking nervously behind his back. Even though it was a tight fit, he still expected them to find a way to follow them eventually.

“It’s a dead-end, dude,” Kyle whispered, and Cartman snapped his head back forward.

“That’s fuckin’ impossible, where’d Marsh go, then?”

“I- I don’t fucking know!” Kyle hissed, obviously panicking. “Shit, shit shit… Wait-” Before anything else could be said, the wall actually began to rotate like one of those fancy doors Cartman liked to run through all the time at the mall, pulling Kyle with it and knocking him to the other side.

“K- Kahl? Kyle!” Cartman reached forward, feeling nothing but a solid wall in front of him. After a moment of groping the bricks, he began to panic a little with his heart pounding in his chest and his head growing fuzzy, and started slamming his hand against the wall, the roughness cutting into his soft flesh. “Kyle, this isn’t funny! Get back here!”

A snarl from nearby made Cartman pound harder against the wall. “Fuck, let me in! I’m sorry, please just let me in! I won’t call you a Jew anymore, I swear!” He turned, seeing teeth glinting only a few feet behind him, while they scrabbled along the ground like some rabid monster. “AHHHH, I don’t wanna die!” Cartman howled, digging his nails into the wall. “I’m not ready to die, all this potential going to fucking waste! Let me in, lemme in lemmeinlemmeinlemmeinlemme-”

Suddenly the wall less than gracefully swung open, aggressively shoving Cartman inside and making him fall onto his hands and knees. His eyes were shut tightly and for a moment he was afraid to open them, but did so anyway eventually. The room was dimly lit, and smelled damp and musty. There was a small crowd of *mostly* adults in front of him in white labcoats, with Stan and Kyle the closest to Cartman. They both looked a little shaken up, but still seemed a bit smug to see their frienemy on the ground and in near tears. Bastards.

Cartman coughed nonchalantly and stood up, brushing the dirt off of his clothes. This looked like… “Where are we?” There were tables set everywhere, with various equipment on top that Cartman didn't really care about.

“Old science lab,” Kyle explained as he also looked around. “I can almost swear we’ve been here before, but like, also not. Because we’ve never gone through an alleyway to go anywhere like this, as far as I can remember, so we shouldn’t even remember a place like this… right?”

“Ah, well,” Stan said, turning to the adults behind him. “They apparently had to relocate to this area because the hospital got overrun, so I guess we got lucky in a way."

One of the scientists or doctors (Cartman wasn’t sure which one; for all he knew, this person could be pulling both jobs. The town didn’t have much of a standard or budget for these kinds of careers) stepped forward and nodded almost eagerly. “But ah, you said you had what we need, correct?”

Kyle nodded and pulled open his jacket, revealing some kind of orange, glossy material. “I hope this works… Seems like a stupid idea now.”

“It was brilliant, Kyle!” The voice made several people jump, and Cartman saw Kenny poking his head out of a half-buried hole from nearby. “It’ll work, it’ll be fine!”

“Where the fuck..?” Kyle looked around in bewilderment, before looking back down at Kenny. “How did you…?”

“No idea, I just followed Cartman’s fat, loud feet from above.” Kenny grinned and struggled to pull himself out of the hole. This time Stan helped him out, while Cartman was busy pouting about his feet being made fun of.

“As amusing as this all is,” doctor-scientist guy started, then turned back to Kyle, who silently handed over the material. The adult immediately walked over to something toward the back, something that Cartman didn’t care that much on. “Now let’s see… yes… everything is in proper order, we just need to extract…” 

Kyle folded his arms over his chest, awkwardly tapping his foot against the floor while waiting. “So… how’d you guys know about this place? Seems a bit… discreet.”

The others remained silent, looking toward the leader of their sciency cult, and he turned to address the kids after a moment. “It was handed down from a friend’s relative. Now please… it’ll only be a few minutes.”

Kyle took it as a sign to not bug the gray haired man, so he turned and looked awkwardly between Kenny, Stan, and Cartman. “How’s… your guys’s week been, I guess?”

"What do you think?" Cartman snorted, earning a mildly dirty look.

“Same old same old, besides blood soaked zombies trying to eat my face,” Stan shrugged, properly answering the question. “We had a test on Monday… I’m so fucking glad we didn’t get a chance to actually do it, but we’ll probably have to do it on Friday now or some shit, and I’m even less prepared.”

“It’s not zombies, they're _infected_ ,” Kyle corrected, earning an eye-roll from Kenny.

“I’m pretty sure you referred to them as zombies several times over the last few days,” Kenny accused, causing Kyle’s face to go as red as his hair.

“Yeah Kaaaahl, you don’t have to pretend to be smart in front of all these nerds,” Cartman teased as he motioned to the scientists, causing Kyle to scowl. 

“Listen, fat-ass-”

**_“Everyone, move!”_ ** The scientist bellowed, causing the kids to jump and shuffled back in shock. A hand came slamming into the wall on top of some red button, and as the wall began to do its rotation, the man tossed a bag through the small crack. Then the wall shut once more, leaving them in stunned silence.

“Uh… was that our cure you just tossed out?” Kyle asked unsurely.

“Yup!” The doctor said cheerfully, and Kyle blinked up at him.

“Didn’t we like… fucking need that?”

“Did he literally just throw out the only thing that could save us?!” Stan roared.

“No, no, you misunderstand!” The old man insisted.

“How? I thought you were supposed to extract some… thing and use it as a cure?” Kyle asked confusedly. “The DNA of whatever eats those growths?”

“What, did you want me to splice the DNA with everyone’s and allow them to become some weird mutant monster?” The doctor laughed.

“That’d been soooo sweet,” Cartman whispered, earning a dirty look from Kyle.

“N- no, but I’m just, I don’t understand… Why not some vaccine or legitimate cure, or-”

“Look for yourself at what I've done!” The scientist cackled madly. Ah, that was why Cartman didn’t trust any ‘professional’ within South Park- they were all absolutely bonkers. The wall was opened once again but this time, the person let go of the button on the wall and it stopped midway, allowing the four boys- and the scientist/doctor freaks- to poke their heads out.

The bag was on the ground, sliced open and allowing hundreds of... things to come flying out. They looked like mosquitos, but bigger, and hairier, and uglier if it was possible. The good news was that their long, grotesque proboscis were directly sucking at the seemingly impenetrable fungus-like growths that were coming out of people’s faces and other bare parts. The bad news was that, well, they were terrifying as hell.

The more people that seemed to be ‘cured’ of this cancerous growth on their limbs, the more hysteria there was over these fist-sized bugs trying to eat zombie faces. They seemed otherwise completely harmless, though they did leave large, red bumps in their wake. 

“This is probably the oddest thing we’ve been through,” Kenny commented as he wrapped an arm around Kyle’s shoulders, and then Cartman’s with his other arm. “Prehistoric mushrooms causing people to act rabid, and the cure is… giant mosquitos.”

“I honestly feel like this could’ve been handled in a much better way,” Stan muttered, obviously not happy with the fact that there were gigantic bugs flying around. “Less stressful, less confusing, less… everything.”

“This is South Park,” Kyle replied. “Nothing is ever easy around here. We’re just lucky it wasn’t contagious, or we’d be fucked.”

“For sure,” Stan agreed.

Cartman pulled away from the group and stretched out his limbs. “Wellll, it’s a good time to celebrate then! Let’s go eat, I’m starving!” After receiving a few odd looks, he glared back defensively. “What?! We’re the heroes, we should get to have a celebratory meal! I mean sure, we almost got Mr. Mackey and like- okay, almost ALL of the teachers killed- and we kinda abandoned our classmates last second to just fend for themselves while WE did all the cool, bad-ass shit, but come on!”

Cartman waved his arms around excitedly as he continued rambling. “We travelled into Canada and found a fucking like, rock thing filled with the blood of a fucking mosquito! We battled zombies on the way and even stole Stan’s dad’s car, which was awesome! We did all of the work, the others were just dragging around crying, where’s my mommy, why did my sister try to murder me, my dad left when I was three because he said I was a mistake, blah blah blah! But we were being so cool about it, come on guys! Guys?”

“You fucking idiot, you’re the one that caused this mess!” Kyle shouted loud enough to almost break Cartman’s ear drums. “You’re the one that decided to fucking feed some fucked up mushroom to all the adults, thinking they were poisonous! You didn’t fucking realize that they had been frozen in a fucking iceberg for millions of fucking years for a reason?! We had to trek all the way back there because of these fuckers, and-” After Kyle had motioned to the oblivious scientists who were admiring their work, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “surprise surprise, you got us lost a dozen fucking times and we almost died to a bear!”

“Oh,” Cartman responded meekly. “Right.”

This was becoming the norm for the childhood friends. They’d gone through Hell and back (literally, one might add. Several times in fact), and it was getting quite tiresome, for at least three of the four. As the four turned to stare at their new, permanent residents within South Park, Cartman added quickly, “I didn’t think they were poisonous though! I just wanted them to trip balls.”

“Just shut up Cartman.”

. . .

_"... And so there he was, a large and bold font on a page of equal misfits... Something that matters only as much as the context allows one to be... But is it all actually as meaningless as he?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for reading; and also next chapter it'll delve slightly into their actual more personal lives a bit, including their stance on each other as friends. So don't worry about missing anything like that.


	2. Numb

“I dunno man, I’m just kinda over it,” Kyle muttered from his spot on the floor of his room. The walls, once a deep blue, then cheaply painted over with a darker purple, was now left with mostly chips in the wall that revealed both that old blue, and cracking drywall. The pale marks of star-shaped sticker residue were left all over the ceiling, with a few remaining glow-in-the-dark stars in the corners that probably couldn’t be reached. Carpet had been pulled up years ago, revealing a hardwood floor with a black rug at the entrance to the doorway. The only thing that stayed the same from his childhood was his bed (despite having new purple plaid covers over it), though he was much too tall for it. Kyle supposed some things just never changed, no matter what.

“What, school?” Stan questioned as he played idly on Kyle’s computer in the corner. It was a newer model, but it sat on top of the same rickety desk he’d had for years. At least he’d given it a different coat of paint so it would SEEM different.

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Do I look like I’m talking about school?” When Stan turned to see his best friend sitting cross-legged with a book in his lap, at least 400 pages into history that his classes hadn’t even started on yet, the raven-haired boy let out a laugh of near-disbelief.

“Sorry, I somehow keep forgetting you’re a nerd.” Kyle snorted at Stan’s words, dropping his head back to his book but not done with the conversation just yet.

“I’m talking about… like everything.” Kyle sighed in frustration, never really good at words even though in his head, it all seemed pretty straight forward to him. “Everything to do with South Park. All the people in it. It’s just so…”

“Boring?” Stan offered, and Kyle shook his head. 

“Please tell me you didn’t just say that.”

Stan shrugged. “I mean, even… crazy shit gets boring after a while when you’re used to it.”

“It’s not  _ boring _ though, I would say,” Kyle spoke thoughtfully. “More like… tedious.”

“That’s fair.” Stan nodded.

“It’s just… even the adrenaline isn’t enough to keep me going anymore,” Kyle spoke honestly. “If it weren’t for my morals, I’d probably just… sit on my bed and watch the world outside catch on fire.”

“Dude.”

“I know, I know.” Kyle pulled off his traditional ushanka hat- something he rarely did- to brush his fingers through his ginger curls. He needed to shower eventually, but he didn’t have the time or energy to. “All this shit does is stress me out and piss me off. I don’t need that extra pressure.”

Stan gave a sympathetic smile. “You  _ have _ been getting more and more reckless lately. But hey, shit hadn’t gone down in like… two weeks, so at least we had a break for a while.”

Kyle grunted, deciding to shove his book away and stand, only to just sit on his bed, which gave a threatening groan. One day he would go right through the mattress, he was sure of it.

“Then of course fat-ass had to fuck it up,” Kyle grumbled. “You know he does this shit on purpose, right?”

“Who, Cartman? Nooooo, not him,” Stan scoffed in sarcasm, holding a hand to his chest. “Again to be fair though, he hadn’t done shit in a while. It’s been a first for this month, and it’s almost November. So it’s not  _ always _ him.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if…” Kyle huffed, deciding not to finish his sentence. “I’d like to know what the problem  _ is _ . No other fucking town goes through this. You don’t go through Tomahawk Wisconsin and have to turn back around because of fucking zombies.”

Both boys could tell that Kyle was getting irate by his excessive swearing, which he had learned to start repressing a long time ago (and he never swore as much as the others to begin with), so Kyle rubbed his face to try and calm down while Stan twisted his chair around to focus his full attention on the red-head. 

“Maybe they hide their problems and pretend shit like that doesn’t exist, like South Park?” Stan pointed out, but Kyle shook his head.

“There’s too many people in those towns and there’s almost always cars going through. But here… It’s always the same people. Almost no one goes through, almost nobody new stays, and… when they do, they stay forever. Nobody fucking leaves, dude. It’s always the same people.” Kyle pursed his lips together. “It’s a dead-end town filled with fuckers who will take up space here even after they die. It almost feels like we’re trapped here, like rats in cages.” Kyle stared down at his hands. “It feels like, when I see the sign that says ‘leaving South Park’, that I’m not actually leaving. Everything beyond it feels surreal, even fake, especially knowing that… we’re just gonna come back at the end of the day. It feels like we aren’t  _ allowed _ to leave forever. We’re bound by these invisible walls that only stretch out so far before they whisper in your ear that you need to go back. I wonder if everyone in small towns feel this way...”

“Dude, you’re getting way too philosophical about our existence right now,” Stan laughed a little, the obvious nervousness in his eyes. “Just chill. We can and WILL leave this place, forever, when it’s time. For now… just take a breather.”

Kyle suppressed a sigh. This happened a lot when he was stuck alone with his thoughts, but rarely around his friends, and especially not when he had studying to do. Maybe he was starting to break… Not that he ever considered himself that strong to begin with, in more recent years, so it didn't come as a surprise if his mentality was beginning to snap under pressure. His resilience wasn’t as flexible as it was at ten years old. Things actually affected him now.

“Sorry, man. You know how I am.” Stan shot him a worried look but nodded in response and returned to the computer. Kyle hated that look. He hated that a lot of people gave him that look these days. The ginger turned to check his phone, seeing the time, and stood up to shrug on his jacket. When Stan looked back once more, Kyle motioned almost miserably to the door. “Gotta go to work. You gonna be here…?”

“Yeah, I didn’t feel like dealing with my dad so I told him I was spending the night,” Stan explained in a quieter tone. 

“Isn’t he still pissed that you took his car?”

“He probably drank himself to forgetfulness because he didn’t mention anything about it when I told him.” Stan started chewing on the inside of his cheek; Kyle could tell by the way it hollowed out. It was a more extreme form of anxiety that Kyle noticed his best friend had developed as he got older, resulting in a lot of bleeding, ripped skin, scabs, then eventually scars. He wanted to scold his friend, but didn’t have the energy for that either.

“What about Wendy? You’re not going to her house last second like last time?” Kyle gave a wry smile.

“Nah, we’re-”

“-Fighting again.”

“... Yeah.”

Kyle sighed, but much like he was tired of that look of pity and concern, he was sure his friend was just as over the nagging about his moderately toxic relationship. The taller boy wouldn’t listen mostly out of spite these days, and Kyle was tired of repeating the same thing only for it to be discarded in the trash can at the back of Stan’s brain. He loved his dear best friend, but God, sometimes he was as brainless as his father. Not that he’d ever compare Stan to Randy aloud, because then that really  _ would _ cause a fight.

Instead, Kyle dropped it as it was the norm, and gave Stan a fist-bump as he walked to his door. “Alright dude, I’ll see you after work. Tell Ike when he gets home from his friend’s that dinner is in the fridge.”

“Oh, dinner is in the fridge you say?” Stan grinned and spun around in the wheely chair dramatically. “What’re we having?”

“Just spaghetti,” Kyle shrugged as he grabbed the keys that were on the end-table beside the entrance. “Knock yourself out but at least save some for Ike. You inhale food almost as much as Cartman.” He gave a small laugh, which grew only louder when Stan gave him a shocked look.

“Rude, man!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

Stan then thought for a moment, stopping Kyle as the bedroom door was pulled open. “But hey, are you grabbing any before you leave?”

“Nah, it’s for you guys.”

“Kyle-”

“I’ll stop at like, McDonald’s for a salad or something, it’s alright.” Kyle rolled his eyes. 

“Who the fuck eats the salad from McDonald’s?!”

“Me. Me eats the salad from McDonald’s.” Stan’s lips twitched in amusement at the purposeful broken English while Kyle chose to shrug off his friend’s grip then check his phone again. “I really gotta go or else I’ll be late.”

“Alright, alright… Be safe.”

“I will.”

They shared a quick smile before Kyle walked out of his room, closing the door quietly behind him. He could hear Stan whirl around in the chair almost immediately and start tapping keys; probably playing World of Warcraft, an old favorite from their childhood.

The house, as had become the custom, was dark and quiet, with paint peeling and dust growing in the corners of the ceiling. Kyle was average height and yet no matter what, he could never reach some of those areas. Maybe he had just given up a long time ago about trying. Everything else about the house was clean and organized, at least on a basic level. At a closer look, one might notice dust build-up on plenty of furniture, almost like they hadn’t been touched in years. All rooms on the top floor were shut except the bathroom, something that Kyle preferred.

Kyle headed down the stairs, slipped his shoes on, and left the house into a chilly afternoon where it was already growing dark. It was a few hours after school, but it wasn’t enough of a space in time for him. He was just so exhausted, and wanted more time to himself. 

His car was parked outside of the garage; he hadn’t felt like actually pulling inside, like most days. He felt so lucky to have a smaller sized car at least, because otherwise they probably would have used it instead of Stan stealing his dad's car (an SUV he had retrieved from the junk yard one year), and that piece of shit came back from Canada with more numbers in dents than Randy had bottles of wine as decorations; which was why they eventually had to resort to walking, when it decided to crap on them temporarily. Good news was that Stan managed to go find and retrieve the SUV yesterday, _in_ Kyle's car... There went Kyle's brain again, wandering way too much.

Driving down the completely normal road of South Park always peeved off Kyle, and he wasn’t sure why. Was it because everyone and everything seemed so normal when just a few days ago, there was a literal zombie apocalypse? Because he could just  _ tell _ that everyone was pretending like this town was as normal as any other? Did he just hate seeing the same, repetitive street several times a day? Who knew, not him. Even though these were his feelings and he  _ should _ know why he felt the way he did, he didn’t.

Despite the fact that he said he would, Kyle actually did not stop at McDonald’s, and instead just headed to Grocery Mart where he worked as a cashier. He ended up being thirty minutes early (he usually was) so he took the time to sit in the car and brood about his life while waiting to go inside. It was apparently just a really shitty day for him.

Kyle dropped his head onto the steering wheel for a moment while his mind wandered. Who knew that he would end up becoming the person that had to juggle school and a part-time job? It sounded more like Kenny’s thing… He winced at the thought, but it wasn’t necessarily wrong. Just a little cruel.

Kenny wasn’t a mooch, as much as his parents and other people claimed him to be, though. The guy always found a way to make money, but they were all under-the-table jobs or (most likely) mildly illegal acts. He otherwise mostly just focused on his schoolwork because he was determined to make it out alive and with decent grades so that maybe he wouldn’t be stuck at below poverty line like his parents- and maybe wouldn’t have to keep doing illegal business far into his adulthood. He prioritized his time and balanced his effort out enough, which did make him someone to be admired, but Kyle couldn’t help but also feel a little salty that Kenny still somehow had time to get things like that sorted out, while Kyle was stuck with no choice but to switch between school and work on a constant, never-ending rotating wheel, even when his mind was breaking with exhaustion…

The red-head ended up shaking his head free of thoughts. It wasn’t Kenny’s fault he was in this predicament. Also, it was time to go in, and it wouldn’t do him any good to have any air of negativity around him at his job. Especially when he’d recently gotten in trouble because a customer complained that Kyle had ‘acted very polite, but his vibe was just too off’. It was bullshit but there was nothing he could do except try and fake happiness harder.

~~~

Kyle eventually managed to drag himself out of the store, his feet sore and his eyelids heavy. He shuffled to his car and started it, going extra slow while driving home; it didn’t matter either way, since nobody was on the road at this time of night. He hadn’t even checked his phone at all while on his breaks, nor when he got out of work, choosing to wait for any chaotic texts from his friends when he got home and could sit down.

He pulled into the driveway, again not caring enough to go into the garage, and managed to slump up the stairs, pulling the door open. The living room was dark as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him, but the kitchen light was on, causing him to head that way mindlessly like a moth to a bugzapper. Ike was peeking in the freezer when Kyle’s shoes slapped on linoleum, causing the younger boy to jump and snap his neck around.

“Oh, hey,” Ike spoke quietly, relaxing somewhat when seeing his older brother. “We don’t have any more ice cream?”

Kyle shook his head as he dropped his keys onto the kitchen table and dragged his shoes off tiredly. “No, you ate the rest a couple days ago, remember?”

Ike shifted from foot to foot. “I thought you’d get more by now.”

“Sorry bud. Maybe next time.” Seeing as there was only one dirty bowl in the sink, and knowing how eager Stan was to eat, Kyle raised a brow. “Haven’t you eaten any spaghetti yet?”

“I don’t like spaghetti,” Ike protested quietly as he stared longingly up at the freezer for an imaginary treat.

“You love spaghetti!” Kyle accused, narrowing his eyes at the other. Ike had a major growth spurt just a month or two ago from being so close to (or even already at) puberty, so the two were now eye-level, which made things a little awkward for the ginger, to see Ike as still his ‘little’ brother. 

“Your spaghetti, I mean. You’re not good with… it,” Ike muttered, causing Kyle’s heart to drop into his stomach, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little insulted. It wasn’t that bad… was it?

“Don’t stay up too late. Night,” was all Kyle could respond with in an abrupt manner before he turned and dragged his feet toward the stairs. He really didn’t want to start an argument or even calm discussion about whether or not his food sucked.

Kyle reached his room and popped the door open, noticing that it was dark and Stan was already asleep on the floor, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. He couldn’t help but smile slightly, slipping into the room as quietly as possible. He winced as he sat down on the bed, the old springs underneath him screeching terribly from his weight.

Stan almost immediately stirred, and in the dim moonlight from his window, Kyle could make out the other’s eyes pop open in surprise, then look around. “Kyle?” The raven-haired boy whispered in the dark, sitting himself up with the blankets still curled around his body, all the way up to his chin.

“Yeah, I’m home Stan,” Kyle murmured, pulling everything out of his pockets before peeling off his pants wearily and throwing them in the corner somewhere. He then grabbed a pair of blue pajama bottoms that hung on the headboard and slipped them on.

“Jesus Christ, what time is it?” Stan yawned, so Kyle picked up his phone while he was getting dressed. He ignored the various text message notifications while checking the time.

“Like… midnight.”

“Shit,” Stan groaned.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya,” Kyle said apologetically as he slid underneath his own covers, though still facing the silhouette of the Stan-burrito on his floor. 

“Dude, I’m worried about  _ your _ sleep,” Stan laughed quietly, causing Kyle to arch a brow in the darkness. “You’re probably exhausted.”

“I might be,” Kyle chuckled without humor, settling deeper into the bed. “So let’s stop talking and then we can both get sleep, yeah?”

Stan gave an almost inaudible sigh. “Yeah…” He then laid back down on the floor uncomfortably, and Kyle had a pang of guilt. He really needed a new bed, a bigger one. Then Stan could just sleep next to him and not on a hard, wooden floor… 

Kyle felt the need to suddenly flip onto his back and so that’s what he did, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Either the glue from long deceased stickers still held some glow with it, or his sight had a permanent engravement of what it knew the ceiling was supposed to look like from his childhood, and didn’t want to let go of that image, because he could swear that there were small dots of fading light at the top that made it look like it used to years ago.

He grew annoyed by this too, and rolled over once more, facing his wall now. Stan must have heard the bed shaking from the movements, because he spoke in a slur a few seconds later. “You good?”

Kyle bit his lip to suppress a heavy sigh, not wanting to hurt Stan’s feelings since all he’d done was ask a fair question, and only responded with, “Yeah. Just trying to get comfortable.”

“Alright… Night Kyle.”

“Night, Stan.”

With his feet hanging over the bed frame and something from within the mattress stabbing him in the side, Kyle remained in that position for the longest time until he heard light snoring from his best friend, then he shifted again lightly. God, he hated this stupid bed. He almost considered sleeping on the floor next to Stan, but only didn’t because he didn’t want to make any more noise and wake his friend. Although, they hadn’t slept side by side in quite a few years… but that was mostly a by-product of losing any interest in physical contact for the longest time. Kyle was just now beginning to get used to general touching again.

Kyle pursed his lips, feeling a surge of guit. He wondered how Stan felt when Kyle started distancing himself from their friendship, mostly physically. He had reassured his super best friend many times that it wasn’t because some ‘toxic masculinity’ issue had taken over, but he never really gave an actual direct answer. Then again, he felt like he didn’t have to. It was probably fairly obvious what caused this change.

His eyes were still heavy but he couldn’t seem to close them. He found himself finally pulling his phone toward his face and turning it on, the light only momentarily blinding him. He checked the notifications with a little bit of reluctance, seeing that there were a few texts in the group chat between the four friends about some mindless humor. Kyle scrolled with little interest until reaching a turning point in the conversation, making him pause.

**Cartman:**

**so, wheres the jew**

Kyle snorted lightly before continuing to scroll.

**Stan:**

**He’s working fat-ass, did you forget?**

**Cartman:**

**well sorrryyy, i dont keep tabs of his persunal life**

**Stan:**

**He’s had a job for like, years now dude**

**Cartman:**

**he has ? goes to show how much i care**

**Stan:**

**Uh huh, sure. Then why were you asking questions about him to begin with?**

**Cartman:**

**he never said my joke was funny : (**

It really hadn’t been all that funny, anyway.

**Cartman (again):**

**also , not that i give a shit but do u rmember the date**

Kyle noticed the large time skip between Cartman’s last message, and the next one that Stan sent, and he was sure it wasn’t an accident or that he had ‘forgotten’ to text back, since they normally sent each other texts within seconds, as proven by their earlier squabble.

**Stan:**

**It’s still a few weeks away though…**

Kyle winced. Reading this stirred some of his memories, memories he didn’t want to remember, especially not like this.

**Cartman:**

**yea but he still gets a stick up his ass around this time lol**

**Kenny:**

**let’s not talk about this in the group chat.**

**Stan:**

**Right.**

Kyle wasn’t sure if he should feel offended or not. It was irritating at the very least, since they had already brought it up. Plus, Kenny made it seem like Kyle was some ignorant, delicate flower that would catch fire and die if the wrong thing was said, and that simply wasn’t true. Kyle might have become less resilient over the years, but he wasn’t that fragile... cue earlier thoughts of believing that his mentality was at the brink of snapping, proving him somewhat wrong. Still, he would rather come across an accidental conversation about it, instead of wonder what they might be saying behind his back.

**Kenny:**

**btw it’s personal* Cartman, not persunal**

**Cartman:**

**shut up ur poor**

Kyle rolled his eyes then placed his phone down. He didn’t even know why Cartman mentioned the date, but from the context, it probably just had to do with Kyle ignoring the group chat, which offended the fat-ass when he said a (pretty lame) joke and didn’t get a rise out of his frienemy. So either he just assumed that Kyle wasn’t in a good enough mood to humor the brunet (he wasn’t anyway) because of the 'situation', or he was just trying to piss the ginger off.

Kyle shook his head at the thought. To refer to Cartman as anything above mortal enemy was slightly odd for him still. He was almost sure as a kid that they would grow up to literally abuse each other to death, and in some ways those expectations did come to be somewhat accurate. But it was more punching or pushing each other over dumb shit, then going back to being fine within five minutes. Kyle refused to say they were legitimately friends, but realistically, that was what they were. As crazy and toxic that friendship was, that’s what their relationship basically boiled down to. 

Whenever his friends just needed to get away from their families, drama, or other, they always ended up at Kyle’s house. If Cartman was among those that showed up with a backpack full of clothes and some snacks, and spent the day trying to beat Kyle or others at video games before passing out on the floor of the bedroom that night, why wouldn’t he be considered a friend? That friendship never got  _ that _ deep in terms of words and affection ( _ especially _ affection), and yet they knew each other’s secrets. Knew more about each other than anybody else (aside from the other two of the group). Kyle didn’t know if that meant they just did way too much around each other, or what.

At the very least, Cartman’s attitude and sociopathic tendencies had thankfully calmed down some once he had gotten older, though he still liked to be an asshole and start shit a lot. Kyle swore it was out of some kind of boredom, but that was better than pure malicious intent… even if the latter still showed up a little while he was boredly trying to catch the town on fire.

Kyle felt his phone vibrate which surprised him out of his thoughts. Maybe Kenny or Cartman had seen that Kyle had finally read the messages and wanted to talk to him about it? However when he opened his phone, he saw Ike’s name in the notification bar. He debated on closing the phone and then going to bed instead of clicking and answering, but curiosity got the better of him.

**Ike:**

**sorry bout earlier. love u big bro**

A sharp twist in Kyle’s gut made him wince slightly. He debated on what to write for the longest time, his fingers hovering over the keys, before he sighed in defeat and sent a quick reply.

**Love you too bud.**

He felt like an asshole for not verbally accepting Ike’s apology but truthfully, he didn’t really accept it at all right now, so there was no point in pretending otherwise. It was so miniscule though, and there really was no point in holding a grudge this heavily over whether or not his spaghetti was actually good. But Kyle couldn’t shake this painful feeling, because he felt he knew the real reason why Ike had claimed it wasn’t good. It was in comparison to someone else’s cooking, someone whom Kyle could never imagine to match up to, someone who had spoiled Ike with delicious meals for half of his life. And now Ike just couldn’t handle anybody else’s cooking, especially because it probably felt like replacing everything he used to know… Kyle knew that feeling.

Kyle groaned as he rolled over to the other side. Too much thinking… It was becoming so, so tiring. He ended up closing his eyes finally, at two a.m, already dreading the idea of waking up in four hours.

~~~

The alarm Kyle always had set went off way too early for his liking, causing him to let out a disgruntled huff. He turned it off after a minute of just listening to it blare in his ear, then pulled himself up into sitting position. It was still pitch black outside, which almost lulled Kyle back to sleep as he stared out of his window in an almost trance-like state, until he heard Stan shifting around on the floor. He turned, with reluctance and fatigue, to look at his friend. The taller boy had kicked the blankets off of him, eyes slightly crossed, and studied the room around him almost like he had no idea where he was.

Then eventually Stan’s head turned and their eyes met, causing the both of them to blink in mild surprise at each other. Stan snorted lightly in amusement and reached over to turn on the lamp that sat on one of Kyle’s small bedside tables. The bright light shocked Kyle’s senses more awake to his disappointment, but he was sure it was for the best anyway. He couldn’t afford to skip class because if he got in trouble in a way that resulted in detention or after-school meetings, that meant he might miss work.

As Stan stretched and popped his limbs, Kyle began to gather some of his things to shower and get dressed. Neither boys were really morning people (though Kyle was worse than Stan about it) and preferred silence for the first thirty minutes or so of waking up, so it was a peaceful and comfortable silence between the two while they begrudgingly got ready for school.

Since Kyle was the only one of the group who could (legally) drive at the moment, all of his friends waited at their respective homes to be picked up instead of sitting in the snow waiting for the bus. And because Kyle was a very punctual person, that meant there would be no dillydallying or else, he might just walk into that person’s house and drag them out with their hair in shambles and their pants only half-way on- as he’d once done to Kenny. Kyle gave zero fucks, he didn’t want to be the reason his friend had to walk in snow or ride a stinky bus, but he wasn't going to let them be the reason he was late either.

This did cause a lot of jokes between the group though whenever he went to go pick them up.

Since Stan was already at his home and had no excuse for procrastinating, he was ready around the same time as Kyle and the two left the house together, after Kyle had made sure to pack Ike a lunch for when he woke up (he trusted Ike to get to school on time on his own since the kid insisted on not being babied).

However, once Kyle reached Cartman’s house, decorated beautifully in Halloween decorations but otherwise looking the same as it did in their childhood, and sent the text letting his… friend know he was there, the comments came rolling in for that day.

  
  


**Cartman:**

**jesus christ dude its like 3 am**

Kyle gritted his teeth. This usually meant that Cartman was not ready yet.

**Fuck you fat fuck. Just hurry up. Class begins in 30 minutes.**

**Cartman:**

**yea an ? we live 5 minutes away from skool**

**So if you take a max of 5 minutes to get ready, then we take two minutes to drive to Kenny and he decides to take 5 minutes, then we take 5 or so more minutes to get there, we’ll only have 13 minutes to relax before we have to go inside!**

**Cartman:**

**kahl**

**W** **hat**

**Cartman:**

**stop destractin me with ur giant walls of text**

**Kenny:**

**oof he’s got ya there Kyle**

**Fuck off, dude.**

**Kenny:**

**remember princess, not everyone wakes up singing to the birds like you <3**

Stan tried hard not to laugh while following along to the chat, but finally broke when he caught Kyle’s sour stare toward his friend. It didn’t even make sense, they knew he hated mornings. He just liked being on time more than he hated waking up.

An abrupt tap on his window made Kyle jump which only made Stan laugh even harder. Annoyed, Kyle turned to see Cartman standing there with his backpack slung over his shoulder, grinning at the red-head. Kyle unlocked the doors and watched from the rear-view mirror as Cartman clambered into the vehicle, dropping his backpack where Kenny was supposed to be sitting. Kyle fought not to roll his eyes as he pulled away from the fat-ass’s house, heading toward Kenny’s next.

Stan, who always sat next to Kyle in the front, flipped himself around while he and Cartman talked to each other about something or other that Kyle didn’t care enough about to listen to. He mindlessly drove until reaching Kenny’s beat up ‘house’ just a short minute later.

Kenny was already standing outside with his things, waving when Kyle pulled up. As he jogged calmly toward the car, the door to his wreck of a home opened and his father- a graying man with little taste in his appearance- popped his head out to shout something in an obscure language that Kyle called ‘drunk-as-fuck-gibberish’, then proceeded to throw a bottle of whiskey in the direction of his son.

The bottle sailed a little too far and it ended up smacking into Kyle’s bumper, luckily not smashing into pieces at least. Kenny visibly winced as he circled the car to get into his assigned seat. “Shit, I’m sorry about that,” Kenny apologized, pushing Cartman’s backpack into the brunet while sliding inside. The car immediately filled with an alcohol and weed scent, although the booze was probably because of the general state of his home that followed him wherever he went. 

“‘Ts okay,” Kyle mumbled in response, backing out of the area to head toward school now. He really wasn’t that bothered about it, he wasn’t as materialistic as people thought he was, or would turn out to be. One bump wouldn't hurt anything.

The car was filled with conversations and laughter when Kyle wanted nothing more than peace and quiet, and maybe a few more seconds of sleep. He allowed his mind to wander so he wouldn’t get too annoyed, and slowly the sounds faded into a humming background that was easier to ignore. He hadn’t even realized that Stan was trying to actually talk to him, and was in the process of reaching out to his friend, when suddenly Kyle noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

Turning his head absentmindedly while at a red-light, it took only a second to spot what Kyle had noticed from his peripherals. A tall, cloaked figure with a hood over their face was standing there in the dark, barely illuminated by the dusty streetlights on either side of them. They had pulled down the hood, the second Kyle looked over and suddenly the boy was trapped in pitch black, hollow looking eyes with white, snowy skin surrounding them. It felt like he was falling into an abyss, while a cold, empty feeling washed over his skin and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Everything in that moment felt so numb, so draining, so hopeless, so… lifeless.

At that very moment was when Stan had touched Kyle’s arm to get his attention and Kyle’s foot slammed on the gas pedal in shock, still eyeing the person or creature even as he passed by in the car. Kyle couldn’t hear anything while the blood roared in his ears, and his eyes were clouded with that never-ending black hole he had fallen into, up until his tires began to screech. They slid across the ice for just a second before slamming into the nearest tree, and Kyle completely blacked out.

It was luckily for only a few minutes at the most, when water was splashed into his face, shocking him back into a conscious state and taking him away from the realm of pure darkness and emptiness. He snapped his head upward with a loud gasp, not registering the fact that he was laying on his back in the first place. He stared up at the faces above him, at first seeing no distinguishable difference between them and beginning to panic. How could they have features with obviously different characteristics and yet his brain couldn’t register them as anything more than something faceless and the same? Why couldn’t he even recognize these people in the first place?

One of them knelt down and wrapped something warm and comforting around his arms. Kyle simply stared back with wide eyes, until eventually his sight actually started focusing on what, or who, he was looking at. Short, ink-colored hair; narrowed, crystal eyes; rosy cheeks from the cold weather… Cold. Kyle’s tensed body gave a shiver when it began to register the temperature outside. Or maybe he’d  _ been _ shivering and didn’t notice until now. That would explain the… blue jacket around his body.

Stan’s eyes were full of concern as he rubbed Kyle’s prickling, twitching arms. He was saying something but Kyle couldn’t concentrate on that, either. His head was pounding, the noises were just too loud.

Kyle recognized Kenny also bending over, starting to hold some type of beige cloth to the ginger’s head. He hissed in response and tried to jerk away from the contact but arms held him firmly in place while Kenny cautiously dabbed his head. When the rag was pulled away, it was colored red.

There was a moment of clarity within his head that made him realize what had just happened, though the sounds around him threatened to muddle that focus, so he dropped his head into his shaking, bloodied hands to keep the dizziness at bay and mumbled, “Guys please… shut up…”

The voices died down once Kyle had spoken. They all seemed to wait anxiously, Stan gripping Kyle’s arms still and Kenny shifting from foot to foot with the cloth held in his hand. Now that the fog had lifted, Kyle noticed just how cold he was. It hadn’t even been that chilly of a morning, it was probably because of the fact that he’d been attacked by water, or maybe from sitting in a mound of snow, or from…

Kyle tried to push down the image away before he had a panic attack or something, and chose to pull the jacket closer to his body while shivering.

Stan decided that Kyle’s mild shifting was a good sign and murmured in a careful tone, “Hey, you alright?”

“Alright?! Fucker went right through the window!” Kenny exclaimed in a hushed tone.

“Got yeeted like a sack of potatoes,” Cartman agreed. 

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, which caused an even harsher tremor to roll through Kyle’s freezing body when the contact was lost for a moment. “Look let’s just get him back in the car for a second to warm him up.”

And so all three grabbed Kyle and placed him in the nearest seat which happened to be Stan’s. The car, surprisingly enough, was still running, therefore toasty for Kyle to warm up in. There were shards of glass everywhere though, and there was now a hole right where Kyle presumably went through. 

“Fuck, you’re so lucky, dude,” Stan was muttering as he continued to rub Kyle’s arms up and down to try and speed up the warming process. “You didn’t even hit the tree itself, just some snow in front of it, and you went fucking flying like you hit a boulder 100 miles an hour. I don’t understand how you’re not dead.”

Kyle shuddered, looking over to where he had just been a few minutes before. There was some blood on the dashboard, and a bit on the shards of glass. He felt sick.

“So… does this mean we can skip school?” Cartman asked in a hopeful voice.

“Dude-”

“To like take him to the hospital, or whatever. Some of those cuts probably need stitches, right?”

Kyle shook his head, gently pushing Stan’s hands away from him and sliding out of the car onto unsteady feet. He nearly buckled and grabbed the first thing within his reach, which was Cartman, who suddenly looked panicked.

“What do I do? Is he dying?! His blood is on me now, oh God-”

“You idiot-"

“No his blood is on me, if he dies they can pin it on me Stan, wha’doIdo, fuck-”

“Help him up you fucking moron!” Kenny facepalmed.

Cartman awkwardly grasped Kyle with heavy hands and pulled the shorter boy upright, allowing Kyle to steady himself and slowly let go of Cartman’s red coat. “Fuck, you guys made me touch a Jew…”

“Can it!” Stan snapped, placing a hand on Kyle’s back. “I know you have the emotional range of a dead gnat, but stop making jokes for two seconds!”

“Shhhh,” Kyle whispered, closing his eyes. Their shouting was making his head pound.

“Look dude, let’s just take you home and you can get some rest,” Stan spoke nervously. “You obviously had fuck-all sleep last night or some shit to be doing... what you did.”

But Kyle shook his head. “I just… need the school nurse, then I’ll be fine.” He once again slipped away from Stan’s touch, and finding his backpack in the snow, reached to pluck it up before limping the rest of the way to school.

“What about your car?” Kenny called after Kyle.

“Park it,” he muttered, loud enough for Stan to hear so he could pass the information to Kenny.

“Fuck yeah,” Kenny said, presumably finding Kyle’s keys somewhere due to the clicking and clanging of them being picked up. Stan was a much better driver than Kenny, despite neither having their license yet, but he didn’t complain. He quickly caught up with Kyle and though he didn’t touch his friend again, he stayed close to the other’s side just in case he passed out or something. The crunching of Cartman’s feet told Kyle that he wasn’t too far behind either.

Kyle reached to rub his sore, bruised face, and pulled it back to see blood on his glove. His ankle definitely didn’t feel right, his head hurt, the image of that… thing… was still in his head, and now he had a nose bleed. Today was starting off as a shit day.

. . .

_ “... His entire being was the caricature of ‘wrong place, wrong time’... as well as an accidental drip of an ink pen, an awkward smile in a dark room… and above all else, a bird that wishes to be free, but is morally bound by the cage in which it had made for itself long ago when it had broken wings…” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, the updates aren't on any kind of schedule. I can update between a few days to like maybe a month, it depends. Thanks for reading~


	3. Amnesia

Everyone was a little shaken up after that crash, but it was Stan who seemed most traumatized by the experience. Even after Kyle was treated for the many cuts and knots on his body and the ginger began making light jokes again with the others, Stan remained tense. He couldn’t wrap his head around what had happened just a half-hour ago; Kyle’s reaction to being touched, the way the car spun out of control, or the fact that the bump itself wasn’t too harsh but Kyle’s body was propelled toward the windshield regardless.

Stan had watched the seat belt snap in half with little resistance. He had witnessed Kyle’s head go straight through the glass like it was paper. For a horrid moment, all he could see was blood staining the dashboard and he was deeply afraid that he had watched his friend die, and under such crazy circumstances.

So his friends would just have to forgive him for not mustering up a smile and rather choosing to stare down Kyle like a hawk. Cartman and Kenny didn’t even seem that phased, and even used Kyle as an excuse to get out of schoolwork, as if that was what was important at the moment. Stan said nothing to them about it, though, because eventually they  _ did _ have to be ushered away to their classes. Stan was allowed to stay behind, only to help Kyle to his class when the nurse deemed him well enough (and after much protesting from Kyle).

The two friends were now walking side-by-side to Kyle’s science class (one of the only classes Stan didn’t actually share with him) at the complete other end of the school, and Stan was definitely not hiding the fact that he was hardcore staring at his friend. “Stop,” Kyle finally spoke quietly as they turned the corner.

“What?” Stan asked.

“The staring. That look. I don’t need it.” Kyle turned his head to look over at the raven-haired boy. “I’m fine dude… I promise.”

Stan bit his lower lip, wanting to argue or point out that logically, there was no fucking way Kyle was the tiniest bit of okay. Instead, he dropped his eyes to the floor to brood to himself. Kyle was one of those guys that refused to accept pity, sympathy, or concern. He did everything on his own, and he suffered on his own; that was how it had turned out to be. When they were kids, he was more open to the idea of accepting help when need be. But in recent years, he decided to accept the role of a living punching-bag and started isolating himself because of it; now, it was like ripping out a tooth for him to agree that something was even wrong to begin with.

So Stan’s best friend walked to classes like his life wasn’t crashing around him, like he didn’t have the slimmest of possibilities of getting into the college of his dreams despite being a straight A student, and like he didn’t just get flung out of his car like a weird rag-doll in some sort of shitty video game. It was somewhat admirable, but mostly infuriating, especially when Stan had zero control on his own emotions, so he couldn’t possibly fathom Kyle not breaking down every day.

Then again… looking at the bags under Kyle’s eyes and the taut expression on his face, Stan wondered just how well Kyle really was keeping it together. They were very different people after all, with different ways to cope with their issues, and that didn’t necessarily mean one was better than the other… or whatever. 

They stopped beside the door to Kyle’s class where the red-head turned to the other expectantly, waiting for Stan to maybe say something or just walk away. Stan instead just stared almost dumbfounded at the other boy, which made Kyle crack a smile.

“You’re acting like you got thrown out of the car or something,” Kyle joked, snapping Stan momentarily out of his concentration. He blinked, raised an eyebrow, then gave a snort.

“You’re acting like you  _ didn’t _ get thrown out of a fucking car. Over a pile of snow!” Stan flapped his arms in the air. “Do you not understand how absolutely fucked that is? That is literally not how physics work! I don’t think… I almost flunked Physics, so I wouldn’t know.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “I would know, I helped you with the homework.” Then he crossed his arms over his chest, which caused Stan’s eyes to focus on one of the bandages on the ginger’s wrist. The other noticed this, and tucked his hands into his pockets. “I’m uh, going inside now. I’ll see you next class or something, alright?”

Stan pursed his lips together but didn’t argue- not that he could even if he wanted to. “Okay. But text me if you don’t feel right.”

Just before Kyle had placed his hand on the door, Stan’s own hand shot out to touch Kyle’s shoulder, seeing him wince and probably not because he had hurt his shoulder in the car ‘crash’. “Wait! What happened out there, anyway?”

Kyle didn’t answer, turning his head away from his friend. “It’s nothing… I don’t think. Just too tired today, man. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Stan sighed and gently let go of his friend. “Yeah… okay.”

As Stan was walking back to his own class, he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He was about to reach in to pull it out when he saw one of the newer high school teachers walking briskly down the hall, so he casually laid his hand down on his thigh instead, and patted it while whistling nonchalantly. He received a dirty look from her but she said nothing. He didn’t even have an actual class with her, nor knew her name, but was told that she was a real piece of work, trying to be the principal’s best dog by basically trying to get every student suspended at some point or another. Little did she know how counterproductive that really was, but Stan wasn’t about to explain to her how useless it was to be the sheep who cried wolf until there were no more kids in school to bitch at; because again, he had no classes with her and he didn’t need to pick fights like that with a teacher he didn’t even have to talk to, only to get tossed out.

Stan slipped into his class where his History teacher was droning on about something or other, and who definitely didn’t stop despite the minor interruption. He was reading something from the textbook which would preoccupy his sight, and for all Stan knew, the guy didn’t even hear anything over his own loud drawl. He would have to make himself known after class so he wouldn’t be permanently marked absent. Maybe he could even convince the guy that he’d been there the whole time and that he had just missed Stan when doing head-count. He’d gotten away with that before. 

He spotted his normal desk beside Kenny on one side and Craig on the other, both zoned out just as much as their teacher was at the moment. Stan held back a chuckle, making his way to the seat and plopping into it, making sure to knock into Kenny’s shoulder so he would jump from the contact and snap his head around wildly for the perpetrator.

Seeing his friend’s smirk, Kenny sighed and tried to go back to dozing, but after a second of his head leaning into his hand while hunched over, he sat back up to lean into Stan’s ear. “How’s Kyle?”

Stan was pulling out his history book and flipping to a random page so he could at least pretend to care what was going on, but paused momentarily to the question. He didn’t really know how to answer that. “Same as ever,” Stan finally decided to settle on with a grim smile. “Uncooperative as Hell.”

“I can imagine,” Kenny sighed, settling back in his chair. Though their teacher was a loud droner, they still resorted to whispers. It was just that kind of classroom that felt weird to talk during, even though almost nobody paid attention either way; to them, or the class itself. 

Stan nodded quietly, twirling his pencil around on the desk in front of him. “... Do you know exactly what happened?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You were the one closest to him,” Kenny pointed out, using the pointy end of the pencil to stick in his nose for a moment, and Stan gave the other a light punch to the arm with his own nose wrinkled in disgust. 

“Sick, dude.”

“What? It itches!” 

Stan rolled his eyes. “Sure, itches. Anyway…” He pinched the bridge of his nose in thought. “It happened so sudden, I don’t know. I touched his arm or something and he just had this sudden panicked look and began to speed down the street, then we slid across ice…” Stan looked back at Kenny, who seemed to be trying to map out the vision in his head. “We didn’t even hit anything solid, right? And the guy just…” Stan shuddered to think about it.

The only good news was that this was South Park, and even though an accident created by Kyle was a new thing, it wasn’t something spectacular so the teachers were obviously not told or maybe they didn’t care enough to make some weird announcement that would surely embarrass the red-head… unless it was only happening in classes that Kyle was actually in. 

Kenny placed his chin on his hand as he stared back at Stan with troubled eyes. “Maybe he still can’t handle being touched or something and it startled him.”

“Maybe, but he seemed a bit off just before that anyway,” Stan pointed out. “Plus, he’s never reacted like… that.”

“Yeah I dunno, man,” Kenny admitted, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. “I’m assuming he’s also in class, which is wild because he looked almost…”

“Dead,” Stan agreed quietly. “I know. He didn’t even look like he was breathing at first. And he’s got a whole bandage on his head and his ankle is all fucked up. He should just be at home resting.”

“You know Kyle’s too stubborn for that, though,” Kenny replied. “Always has been…”

Stan didn’t know what to say to follow up with that, so he let the conversation drop, deciding that that was a good time to check his phone. There were three more notifications, all texts, from a certain someone…

The look on his face caught Kenny’s attention, and he raised a brow. “You look like you ate a spider.”

“Might as well have,” Stan muttered, showing his phone momentarily to Kenny, who looked amused by the various messages. 

“You neglect her as bad as my parents neglect me,” Kenny joked, and Stan burst into nervous laughter before covering his mouth with his hands.

“Sorry Ken,” Stan apologized, though his friend only grinned in response. “I don’t neglect her though… do I? Fuck.” He looked down at his phone, which was still being blown up by angry texts from Wendy. His girlfriend, Wendy. Yes, that was a thing. How could he have forgotten? Well… Stan could lie and say that what had happened this morning had distracted him, but in all fairness he probably wouldn’t have noticed his phone going off either way. 

Still, it was a good excuse for him to get out of trouble. Plus Kyle, Wendy, and he all had a class together next period so he could prove that he wasn’t really making anything up. Stan only felt a little guilty as he sent back a quick text to his girlfriend, who was saved in his phone as ‘Wifey’.

**Wifey:**

**Not even a good morning from you Stan? I mean I know we were fighting but still…**

**Wifey:**

**And where are you and your friends anyway? Kyle is picking you up, right? He’s practically always here before even me!**

**Wifey:**

**I don’t appreciate being ignored Stanley, I know you’re getting these!**

**Wifey:**

**Fine, be that way, see if I care. I just won’t talk to you anymore.**

Stan gave a small sigh as he sent his message.

**Sorry, Kyle got into an accident. I was with him at the nurse’s office then went straight to class and forgot to look at my phone.**

Not necessarily a lie, for today anyway. Maybe he could avoid getting chewed out at least for this time. A different story in terms of all those other times, however… Stan pinched his eyes shut. He was really, really bad with texting back. But he was also terrible with talking face-to-face, which got him in as much trouble. Mostly with Wendy and strangers. How strange it probably was, to treat his own childhood girlfriend like someone he didn’t even know most days. To be awkward around her, and continue to stutter and trip over words, and constantly say the wrong thing on accident.

He would be the first to admit that he was most of the problem, but that didn’t stop him from self-destructing. It was almost worse, to be so self-aware of his own toxicity and yet just not do anything about it.

Stan mentally shook the clouding thoughts away. That was an issue for a different person, plus Wendy had texted back. He almost grinned, knowing that he was the only person that could get her to text in the middle of class.

**Wifey:**

**Omg is he okay? Are you okay?**

**Wifey:**

**I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I feel like an ass now.**

Stan couldn’t stop the smile pulling at his lips, but managed to push away any thoughts of triumph. This wasn’t a time for pettiness or anything similar to that. Especially considering this was a one valid excuse out of a thousand normally crappy ones kind of deal.

**We’re fine, I think. Kyle didn’t want to skip class though so you’ll see him next period**

**Wifey:**

**Of course he didn’t. What happened?**

Stan’s willing to conversate through text was at its limit, so he merely replied back with:

**Will explain later. Shouldn’t you be concentrating on class? ;)**

Wendy sent another reply but Stan had put his phone away, opting to place his head in his arms so he could hopefully drown out the booming but monotone voice just a few feet away from him.

“You’re the only person I know that gets a text and doesn’t answer it during this shitty class.” A nasally voice spoke up on Stan’s other side, so he lifted his head slightly to see Craig staring at him. They didn’t hang out as much as the four did together, but Stan still did it enough to notice the tiny details that made Craig, well... Craig, and how he showed emotion. For example, he had his normal, bored look as per usual, but with a light squint in his eyes that meant he was amused, and probably about to tease whoever he was talking to. This made Stan internally groan, but decided to take advantage of the moment.

“Don’t you ever like, get tired of talking to someone, like maybe… Tweek?” Stan asked quietly. The two gay lovebirds hadn’t been together as long as Stan and Wendy had, but it was close enough. “Since you’ve been seeing him for years, maybe you know what it’s like to just need a break or something from him because you always know what he’s going to say and it’ll either end in a fight or boring small talk that makes you go crazy, and maybe your energy just runs down a lot faster when you don’t get time for yourself to prepare for the next instance like that… or something. Right?”

Craig blinked slowly. “No,” he finally answered.

Stan’s face grew bright red, realizing he had really rambled like that, out loud. He felt the eyes of a curious Kenny on the back of his head, while Craig stared at his face, so he resorted to just dropping his head so fast that he slammed it into wood and made his ears ring. The other boy gave a light snicker.

The bell eventually rang, allowing Stan to hurriedly pack all of his things and start heading toward the door, but not before being stopped by Craig of all people. “Hey.” The boy forced his way through the mob of zombie students that had fallen under the spell of ‘bored-as-hell’ in that class, so he could stand next to Stan who had tried booking it out of there to no avail. Stan expected some kind of playful malice or a very blunt discussion about how shitty of a person Stan was, but what came out of his mouth was a bit more unexpected.

“Why are you with Wendy if you’re so unhappy?”

Stan was taken aback by the question, not to mention, unsure of how to answer it. “I…”

Craig shrugged his shoulders. “I know your parents are shit, and probably taught you to stay with someone you don’t like because it’s ‘relationship goals’. But maybe you should like… not. There really isn’t a point if it’s this bad.” Craig shrugged again. “Or you could, like, not be a bitch and do better. If you’re the problem. I don’t know, don’t really care. But what you said is just really depressing as fuck.”

As if to rub it in Stan’s face some more, Tweek had poked his head into the now nearly-empty classroom as he usually did when waiting to walk with Craig to their next class. His blonde hair, as usual, was a frazzled mess, his clothes half-hazardly placed on his body, and his skin a pale yellow. He looked so sickly.

Craig’s normally hardened face immediately lit up (of course in its own way, with his eyebrows softening from a seemingly permanent narrow and his expression becoming less tense). He even allowed himself to give a small smile, a genuine one that he only really gave to Tweek. Stan felt a pit of jealousy in his stomach, seeing the way they stared at each other even after all these years.

“Well uh,” Stan spoke awkwardly, watching the two grip their hands together with Tweek against the other’s body, somewhat hiding behind him as he usually did. “Thanks for the… talk.”

“You’re welcome.” Craig wasn’t even looking at Stan, so the raven-haired boy decided to just slip past the gay couple and start heading toward his next class. Unsurprisingly, Wendy was on her way to Stan when he finally stepped into the hallway. She was just a tiny little thing, but her purple beanie and jacket were recognizable for probably miles away. As they met up, she wrapped an arm around Stan’s, which did calm Stan’s nerves a little. He was never good at talking or listening, but physical contact comforted him, especially in that moment.

“I haven’t seen Kyle yet,” Wendy commented while the two started maneuvering through the bodies of kids. “How bad is it?”

“Probably bad enough that he should be at home, not school,” Stan muttered, and felt Wendy squeeze his arm in reply.

“What even happened, anyway?”

Stan chewed on the inside of his cheek, immediately feeling blood pool from the sensitive areas. “I dunno, it was kinda… wild. I think I startled him while he was driving so he took off onto ice and the car spun out of control. He ended up being flung out of the car.”

Wendy shook her head. “How did you scare him that bad, Stanley? Did you scream or jerk him around or something?!” She turned to glare at him, nostrils flaring, and he internally winced. He really did have to be careful with what he said to her sometimes.

“No! I just kinda, like, poked him. Like this.” He used his free hand to reach up and poke Wendy on the cheek gently in the hopes that the exchange would make her less ornery, perhaps even become amused. She did smile a little at the contact. “But it was on his arm.”

“Well some people get too focused on the road sometimes,” Wendy pointed out but without venom now, rather turning to face forward again while they walked. Stan mentally sighed with relief. 

They spotted Kyle inside the classroom already, even though his first period was farther away than Stan’s and Wendy’s had been. Stan smiled to himself. The guy really did waste no time in getting to his destination.

Once Wendy’s eyes landed on the ginger with the head and arm bandages, she audibly gasped and rushed toward him, dropping Stan’s arm as she did so. “Kyle, are you okay?! Stan told me what happened!”

Kyle’s eyes tightened for just a moment, like he was irritated, then he gave her a quick smile. “I’m alright, I promise.” Other than the fact that he was a bit paler than normal, he really did look generally okay.

“Good! But do you really think it’s a good idea to be still in school though?” Wendy tilted her head as she studied his features like a hawk. Both boys knew that the second Kyle admitted to any sort of pain, even sneezed wrong in front of her, she would probably be heading to the principal’s office to beg for Kyle to be sent home. Even though she  _ meant _ well, Stan figured it would not  _ end _ well and perhaps she and Kyle would end up in an argument. Sometimes it seemed like they got along better than the couple itself did, but part of their friendship involved their love for debating and Stan did NOT want to be stuck in the middle of a verbal war like that.

“I mean, I think I managed to pay attention just fine in my last class.” Kyle gave a wry smile before looking just past Stan’s head. “Help me out here, Ken!”

Stan gave a small jump and turned his head to see the blond giving a smirk to the taller boy. Sometimes it was difficult for the group to remember he even existed some days, with how quiet and sneaky he liked to be. He tried to quickly wrack his brain to try and remember if Kenny had left before Stan did, or if he had stayed behind for Craig’s little speech-thing.

“I’d love to but I wasn’t in your first class, so I don’t know if you’re telling the truth or nah,” Kenny pointed out with a playful grin, causing Kyle to groan.

“All you gotta do is tell her I look capable!”

“But Kyle, I don’t know if you are! I didn’t get to witness that big brain of yours go to work yet!”

“That’s not what I’m asking-”

“But that’s the most important part. People might seem fine but could be mentally fucked! You can look smart enough to go to college in a hospital bed on oxygen, but you’re still in a hospital bed on oxygen!”

“You’re not helping!”

While the two friends bickered playfully and Wendy seemed to relax somewhat after watching the exchange, Stan noticed something out of the corner of his eye. It looked to be a shadow in the corner of the room where the windows lined together, but when he turned to look, there was nothing but bright sunshine from the early morning casting a white glow on everything it touched. Stan gave an involuntary shiver, but his interest switched once more when the bell rang and he was being tugged into his desk by Wendy.

Stan was decent with most of his grades, his problem usually just actually paying attention during class. He knew he could at least ask Kyle to re-teach him certain lessons later and normally that would work out for him, but in this class he had to at least put a quarter of effort in so that Wendy wouldn’t get after him for wasting the hour away. This was really the only class he had with her, since she otherwise had really advanced classes. Even Kyle, who was treated usually as the ‘smartest one’ in school, had more basic classes than her now (though Stan was sure that if it were actually up to Kyle, he would probably be in the exact same classes, learning whatever the Hell the ‘real smart kids’ were taught. How to put together a nuke maybe, or probably discovering how to clone).

Stan remembered a time when he used to be considered as smart as Kyle. People used to joke about how they were practically the same person, their brainwaves in perfect sync with just how much they wanted to learn (or not) that day. Then Kyle grew more focused and determined, while Stan went almost in the complete opposite direction. He wouldn’t consider himself stupid, but he had little to no interest in actually following along for the most part.

He did play various sports and passed pretty much all of his classes, so he was a ‘generally successful South Park kid’ in the eyes of the adults, but Stan somewhat wished he wasn’t just a ‘mediocre’ student. He wasn’t a jock, he wasn’t a supergeek, he wasn’t a player or class clown or even one of the weirdo stoner kids like Kenny. He was a mix of a lot of things but had no single outrageous personality trait to make him stand out. 

Stan frowned to himself when realizing where exactly his mind had wandered to and tried to shake the thoughts away before Wendy noticed he wasn’t paying attention in class, which only made the topic shift slightly into an even more unpleasant one.

Maybe that was why he couldn’t handle the boring conversations with Wendy. The constant drivel of nonsensical discussions about school, home life, and anything else. Stan’s family wasn’t the best but then again, there were a lot of messed up families in South Park, and eventually it all blurred into the same string of words he used to describe his parents over and over. He already knew he was basic in school and couldn’t follow along to half of what Wendy brought up in her classes. The only thing he had that made him stand out in any way was a dramatic relationship where Stan managed to pull something out of his ass so that they could argue and he would feel something other than numbness or insignificance.

If anything, at least Stan could be the laughingstock who self-sabotaged his own relationships, for a day.

So much self-awareness, nothing to change the way he played the game. Stan almost smiled bitterly, before he noticed that Wendy was eyeing him with suspicion when he hadn’t turned the page like everyone else had. He hurriedly did so, and all thoughts of clarity left his brain for that moment. It wasn’t the first time he understood himself so much and yet refused to do anything about it.

It took a while for Stan to realize that Kyle, who had taken a seat next to him as per usual, was staring blankly at the pages in front of him like they were in a different language to him. To be on the safe side, Stan peeked over his shoulder to see that they had the same book and everything. They did, but Kyle wasn’t even on the right page, which might’ve explained at least some of the confusion. Frowning, Stan reached to almost nudge Kyle, then remembered the incident from earlier that caused the crash to begin with (he presumed).

So instead, Stan placed his hand back on the desk and instead whispered in a low voice, “Dude?” Kyle visibly flinched and his eyes darted toward his best friend in response, so Stan motioned toward the correct page. Kyle stared blankly for a moment, like he couldn’t even recognize what was in front of him, and it made Stan almost nervous. Then Kyle blinked and gave a small smile with a nod, sifting through the book to find the right spot. Stan, however, continued to eye him with uncertainty, until he had been jabbed by an impatient Wendy. He begrudgingly turned back to his own book.

Stan’s phone buzzed just moments later and when Wendy wasn’t looking, he peeked at it to see that Cartman had texted him in a personal chat. He raised an eyebrow to this, since the two were nowhere near close enough to each other to really texting personal crap to each other. Cartman mostly texted the group chat, Kenny, or once in a while Kyle. Speaking of Kyle…

**Fat-ass** (the nickname Stan had used for him) **:**

**ey hows the jew**

Stan rolled his eyes and sent a quick text back, not daring to worry about proper spelling and risk further getting caught, though he knew it would irritate him later looking back on it.

**Y not text him urself**

**Fat-ass:**

**fine, ill ask Ken since u dont wanna help**

Stan forced himself to look like he was paying attention to class while typing from underneath the table, only peeking once in a while to make sure his text could actually be legible. He also snuck a few looks at Kyle, noticing that he looked lost and blank-faced again.

**Hes a lil out of it.**

**Fat-ass:**

**ppl r comminting bout 1st period. they said he acted like weird n shit**

The butchering of the word “commenting” made Stan flinch but it quickly faded when the words in the text actually began to process. 

**Wym?**

**Fat-ass:**

**tell u later**

With nothing else to do, Stan reluctantly stuffed his phone back in his pocket and once again, turned his head to look back toward Kyle, noticing he had placed his own head in his hand with his eyes closed. So Kyle genuinely did lie to them and wasn’t able to concentrate in class. This made Stan frown a little. There was no need to lie, especially when it was going to be this noticeable to them that he wasn’t alright.

The bell rang before Stan knew it, but as he was packing his things he had noticed that Kyle was still sitting down, staring at his book with an almost frustrated look on his face. Stan felt a pang of sympathy for his friend. It must be difficult for the nerd of the class to be struggling with focusing. Stan felt Wendy brush against his arm and he gave her an absent-minded pat before he stepped toward Kyle and helped him stack his books.

Kyle gave him an odd look. “...I’m okay dude, I can do it myself…”

Stan shook his head and waited for Kyle to stand before handing only a few of the books to him gently. “If I can’t convince you to skip school then I can at least help lighten the load while you’re here.” Kyle’s eyes widened for a moment but then he relaxed and allowed himself to smile a little. 

“If you really want to… Thanks, Stan.”

Stan nodded, then turned to Wendy, who was waiting behind them. She gave a gentle nod to the two and kissed her boyfriend on the cheek, choosing to trail behind them while they headed to their next class then departed and headed to her own with a wave. It was an odd gesture from Wendy to suddenly be so distant, but it seemed to be out of respect. Maybe she had noticed how odd Kyle was acting.

While they had walked, Kenny also silently wandered beside them. In fact, he’d been quiet since his playful bickering with Kyle, and he wasn’t silent often. This meant to Stan that he was probably observing, possibly thinking. Maybe he had noticed what Stan had noticed with Kyle’s behavior.

Once Kenny parted as well, it ended up being just Kyle and Stan in that class, with some other miscellaneous students they didn’t really talk to and hadn’t talked to for years. Stan took the opportunity to continuously study Kyle and his behavior but it turned out to be an uneventful and somewhat boring class because the red-head seemed to have gone back to normal, taking notes and watching every move the teacher was making, and Stan was too busy watching him to actually learn anything himself.

Soon it was lunch and Stan followed Kyle down the hallway, presumably to the lunch-room, when Kyle turned a sharp corner that headed to only an EXIT door. “Woah, hey,” Stan spoke up and Kyle froze in his steps, eyes concentrating on the bright, bold letters above the heavy metal door. Silence fell over them as an almost ominous aura filled and thickened the air.

Then Kyle turned on his heel and gave a faint grin, cheeks dusted a light pink. “My bad, wasn’t paying attention…”

“Kyle,” Stan tried, but Kyle had walked away quickly, leaving Stan behind in that dead-end of a hallway. The other boy had no choice but to follow him, eventually reaching the lunch-room.

Kyle, as he usually did, had a packed lunch with him and sat there picking his sandwich, not unusual as of late, yet Stan still flickered his eyes toward him every so often. Kenny and Cartman sat across from them, fighting about some kind of food trade they had done that apparently had gone pretty badly. Stan himself wasn’t really interested in eating; his stomach kept clenching and churning while his eyes raked across the various wounds on Kyle, and the blank stare that accompanied the boy’s pale face. Stan managed to force down half of an orange just before the bell rang.

As the students all filed out of the cafeteria and Stan was about to follow Kyle to his next class, Kenny placed a hand on the tall boy’s shoulder, stopping him.

“I can get him to his next class,” Kenny muttered under his breath, not that Kyle was really present enough in the physical realm to realize they were talking at all, let alone about him. “Cartman wants to talk to ya.”

Stan suppressed a groan, dreading talking to the fat boy, even if it was about Kyle. He turned and headed back toward the cafeteria, where he found Cartman just now heading toward the door.

“Had to get seconds?” Stan teased, earning a scowl from the other. Truthfully, Cartman had lightened his eating habits by a lot compared to his childhood, and had lost a decent amount of weight, but that didn’t mean Stan couldn’t still make fun of him once in a while because he was still the biggest friend of the group.

“Fuck off,” Cartman grumbled, before his eyebrows narrowed. “So, how did Jew-boy act?”

Stan shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “Like just… really out of it. Kept getting lost in the book, didn’t stand when the bell rang, turned the wrong corner on the way to lunch. In third period he was better up until that wrong turn, at least, but still.”

“Yeah. I guess he was like that in his first class because I heard a couple people talking about it in the halls.” Cartman mused. Stan looked at him almost suspiciously, curious as to why Cartman of all people suddenly seemed so interested in this situation when earlier he acted his usual apathetic self.

Cartman really wasn’t as bad as his childhood-self used to be, but Stan swore the boy had deep-rooted psychological problems, some sociopathic tendencies, and some type of extreme behavior disorder. In fact there was no way he  _ couldn’t _ have any of these issues. This obviously came in the way with getting too attached to him or trusting him with anything, even if once in a blue moon he did something normal and even pleasant. The only person who seemed to break that barrier on a deeper level than anybody else had ever managed, was Kenny.

In actuality, Cartman had decided to simply just come to him with information after evaluating the entire situation. “Bebe mentioned that Kyle wasn’t reacting at all with his name being called and when someone finally got his attention, he seemed really confused that that was his name. I know it’s Bebe and she’s hella dramatic-” Stan rolled his eyes to those words, since Cartman was the most dramatic student he knew, “-but it doesn’t seem too over-the-top to be believable.” Cartman then shrugged and smirked a little. “Little Jew might have amnesia and just won’t tell us.”

“But he remembers our names…” Stan hesitated. “And now he reacts to his name so maybe he’s just a little confused.”

Cartman shrugged again. “No idea. I don’t care  _ that _ much, but it’s still a little odd. So I guess, maybe keep an eye on him.”

“Already planned on it,” Stan muttered, then suppressed a heave of annoyance and decided to be civil. “Thanks for the info, though.”

As Stan was about to depart, Cartman added as he pulled out a sheet of paper, “Oh, and apparently this was what he was doing his entire class. He left it on his desk.”

It was a ‘drawing’ of what Stan perceived to be just a scribbly mess of a black hole. Stan raised a brow to this. “What the fuck is this?”

“No idea.”

Stan sighed and waved goodbye as he hurriedly rushed to his next class once the bell rang throughout the school, with Cartman of course taking his time getting to his own class. 

Stan would like to say that by the end of the day, there was some kind of progression to the oddity around Kyle and his accident. So answers would be fulfilled, or that at least Kyle would either progress or maybe the opposite so that his behavior could be understood just a little more. That perhaps he was on the brink of shock, or he would start feeling better and prove that he was just a little confused but otherwise fine. Instead, his behavior remained a consistent level of awareness mixed with a complete lack of interest in the world around him, and it only frustrated Stan.

He definitely wished that something interesting happened after he talked with Cartman, but they all ended up walking to their respective houses silently, not daring to use the car again for today. Stan ended up in his home, the sound of his parents bickering as parents do, greeting him at the door, with questions swirling in his brain and no way to answer them. He wandered to his room and shut the door quietly, choosing to place headphones on so as to drown out the noise in the other room, and texted his friends, who all acted like nothing had happened today, until falling asleep with his phone in his hand.

A bland way to end such a day.

_ “... There’s nothing more distracting than his assumption of being a distraction… and thrusting the sword in the name of self-sabotage, because specially average is still average…” _


End file.
